


It's Okay

by seaofolives



Series: Fire & Steel Playbook [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Ignis Scientia Needs a Hug, Inspired by Music, M/M, POV Ignis Scientia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaofolives/pseuds/seaofolives
Summary: “Ahhh, Ignis!” An arm darted straight past his line of sight, dragging it leftwards to— “You missed the turn!”Ignis didnʼt normally curse, but this was not a normal situation.Normally, he wouldnʼt have missed a turn. Normally, he would be watching where he was driving, and not just looking at the lines on the gray, staying parallel to them. Normally, he didnʼt make a mistake.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Series: Fire & Steel Playbook [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979386
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	It's Okay

“Hey, Iʼm kinda beat from that last hunt. Is it okay if we sleep on a bed tonight?” 

“Well, the sunʼs getting low, anyway, and we wonʼt be making it to Lestallum at this point…Ignis, can we stop by somewhere?” 

“Certainly,” Ignis answered the king and his friend, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, painted a dusky yellow after the afternoon shower that just passed. Now the skies were a clean slate of white, and the world looked vast and empty. Uncertain. “We should be near the Taelpar Rest Area from here.” 

“All right!” Prompto cheered. “Thanks, Noct.” 

“As long as I get first dibs on the shower.” Their palms met. “Huh. No comment from Mr. Whatʼs-so-wrong-with-camping?” 

“Maybe, if there were any havens around here,” Gladio replied. “If you promise to turn in early tonight, Iʼll keep my mouth shut.” 

“All right, all right,” Noctis tutted. “When the hell did you start talking like—” 

“ _Ahhh_ , Ignis!” An arm darted straight past his line of sight, dragging it leftwards to— “You missed the turn!” 

Ignis didnʼt normally curse, but this was not a normal situation. _Normally_ , he wouldnʼt have missed a turn. Normally, he would be watching where he was driving, and not just looking at the lines on the gray, staying parallel to them. Normally, he didnʼt make a mistake. 

Normally, he wouldnʼt veer sharply rightwards and pull them all to a spin darting left, tight enough that even the king of bad driving himself would be cursing under his breath as Ignis reversed and set them back on course to their intended destination. Normally, he didnʼt even need to reverse, so long as he timed that u-turn perfectly. Which he normally did. 

The last few seconds until they parked near the fueling stations, at least, was uneventful. He switched off the engine, flicked the door locks open from his side. 

“Well,” Ignis said, as cool as ever, as if he wasnʼt this tempted to inhale the gasoline fumes to put him back in his shoes. Or that he wasnʼt avoiding his friendsʼ eyes as he pushed his side open. “Here we are. Just in time for the lights.” Which had just switched themselves on. 

It took another second or two before everyone else vacated the car, Prompto stumbling out as he normally did, Noctis half-bouncing his way to his side after Gladio had tucked him in protectively in his arms. Ignis pretended he hadnʼt noticed that. 

He pushed up his glasses and jutted a finger to the bright red truck on the side of the diner, loaded with familiar stocks. “Iʼll just take a look at their wares. I believe weʼve used up our fair share of curatives earlier. Why donʼt you three check us in and save us a seat in _Crowʼs Nest?_ ” 

“Eh?” A question Prompto posed with the upward twitch of his cheek. The man was onto him. “But…” He tossed a hand to the crow statue behind them, offering a friendly wing to those who needed the overturned bucket beside it. Like himself, Ignis thought all of a sudden. “ _Crowʼs Nest_ —” 

Gladio stopped him there with a large hand on his chest, and a friendly smile at the corner of his lips as he nodded. “Sounds like a plan, Commander. Meet you back in the motel?” 

The motel it was. Ignis nodded. “Thank you, Gladio.” He meant that because the man had bought his excuse with a tip. 

They went their separate ways, then, them to do as he asked them, him to clear his head. He raised a hand to wave at the white-capped attendant watching his approach from her wooden stool. 

“Some potions, if you please,” Ignis ordered. She got up, then, and stretched herself out to the open back of her truck, reaching for a few plasticked packs. He pulled out his billfold and counted the notes he would need for his purchase. “Two dozens of each kind if you have them.” 

“We only have 18 pieces left of the potion, though,” the young woman said to him, glancing over her shoulder. “Is that okay?” 

Ignis nodded. “That will be fine.” He handed the payment to her. “Weʼll take them all. Whatever is left of the money, please use it up for antidotes.” 

“Gotcha.” The cheery woman waved the crisp notes at him, then dragged her stool by the foot so she could get on it and grab the rest of the stuff she needed. 

“By the way,” Ignis went on while she was piling up cases on top of each other, “do you happen to have any newspapers with you?” 

She didnʼt sell it, and she wouldnʼt sell it either. She was still finishing the crossword puzzle and the spot-the-difference. Ignis didnʼt mind, as long as he could browse the news. 

Though he didnʼt know what he expected to see from a broadsheet called the Duscaen Times. It had been weeks since Insomniaʼs fall made it to the headlines, and ever since, the empire had only planted their roots deeper in Lucian soil. After the might they showed, he doubted there would be any large publication left who would be ready to print any critical news articles against them. 

He thanked her for her paper, and then for the curatives which she handed to him in two double bags. With a tip of his head, he headed off to the motel just along the diner. 

Gladio met him halfway with a little wave, then took one of the bags as Ignis handed it to him. “Weʼre all settled in. Couldnʼt find another twin room, though, so someoneʼll just have to sleep on the floor.” 

“I can take the mattress,” Ignis volunteered, following Gladio up the wooden patio that stretched out to the end of the motel. They stopped at a door in the middle which Gladio opened with a key. “Noct will want his own bed, he took quite a beating from the hunt earlier. I hope you donʼt mind sharing.” 

Gladio took exactly two seconds to grace him with a high brow and a happy smirk. “Sure donʼt…‘slong as itʼs with you.” 

Ignis had to give it to him for staying positive despite such dim times…although he supposed that was one thing that had drawn him to his boyfriend and that he had come to admire about him, the longer he pursued him. He was always the one with the right perspective, always the one with his eyes on the prize. 

How he does it…Ignis wished he understood. “Prompto hates it when you lay on the floor, though. Your legs are too long and heʼs scared heʼll trip on them again.” He followed Gladio into their room. 

“We could trade, then,” Gladio proposed easily. Everything had a simple solution to him. 

Typical. That was what he loved about him. “Oh Gladio, he was the one on the floor last time.” 

“Heʼll understand,” Gladio insisted while he sidled to the near side of the room, between the wall and the bed where the bag of curatives would be out of the way. He reached for the one that Ignis carried to put it down there, too. “I can just trade him next time.” 

Ignis chuckled, dipping his head, smiling shyly. “Donʼt say I didnʼt tell you,” he warned him, starting out the shadowy room, illuminated only by the white of the field lights blasting through the windows on both sides. “Theyʼre in _Crowʼs Nest_ right now, yes?” 

“Yeah…hey, Ignis.” 

Ignis stopped, then, and whirled to meet his boyfriend who almost stumbled on the corner of the bed as he approached. He parted his lips, ready to speak. 

If he hadnʼt been in some form of a relationship with the man, first in secret, then out in the open when no other than Noctis himself encouraged it, he wouldnʼt have known what those hands meant when they grasped him by his sleeves, gentle despite their largeness. Ignis clamped his lips shut, and waited, unconsciously drawing in a deep breath just to keep still. 

When Gladio seemed satisfied by his paused state, he tipped his chin up, and Ignis parted his lips again, this time to anticipate the kiss that fell upon it, as softly as two objects fitting perfectly into each other. As always, a warm thrill waltzed down to his stomach, turning butterflies of his insides. 

Sealed by Gladioʼs warmth cupping his cheek and jaws, and the bouquet of his sweat, his leather jacket and his natural scent, so close to him. Like incense that clarified and soothed. He wanted to close his eyes, if that was at all possible. 

“What are you thinking?” Gladio whispered. 

It figures his boyfriend would know something was up. Beyond their relationship, he had always been the intuitive sorts, who knew how to observe quietly and when to approach. “We struggled quite a fair bit in the hunt earlier, didnʼt we?” He offered a little smile with his lie, as smoothly as he could. “I always get these thoughts after the fact.” 

“Ignis.” 

Ignisʼ lips quivered where he caught them before they frowned, and he kept his eyes on Gladioʼs amber gaze, as if daring him to spit the truth in front of him. 

“Itʼs that investigative reporter friend of Vivʼs, ainʼit?” 

Nailed it. Gladioʼs eyes became too much for him, then—the sincerity they held, how deeply he could see into him, into those corners that even Ignis couldnʼt find—and he had to turn his attention to their feet. 

To his luck, Gladio let him. When he touched his chin, it was only so he could stroke his lips, rough and featherlight. “You wouldnʼt let anything dig at you like this unless it was about Noct and home. I didnʼt tell ya but I spoke with that guy before we left Lestallum.” 

“I see,” Ignis said. “So when you mentioned needing the bathroom before we left…” 

“I went back to him and asked to see the pictures he took again. He didnʼt show ‘em to me, though.” 

“What?” Ignis couldnʼt catch himself from raising his face to Gladio, still a child pretending he could lie to the man who often knew him better than himself. In the dark room, the black and white of night and electric lights, it certainly gave him that impression. 

But Gladio still appeared so clearly in front of him amidst it. “The pictures you paid for him to hide. The ones that showed our people hungry and dead in the streets.” He saw them again in his mindʼs eye, once fed and clothed, now ragged and huddled in obscure alleys under borrowed garbs, simply because they couldnʼt run away in time. Because they put their faiths on an enemy whose only promise was to lie to them again and again. “And the protests, the violent clashes.” Blood on childrenʼs faces, their freedom fighters captured by MTs, never to see the light of day again. 

Ignis swallowed a rock. “How did you know?” 

“I thought it was weird that a reporter wouldnʼt scoop up on something sensational like that. That a pro like him would just take pictures of broken buildings and empty roads so I asked him if there was more.” Gladio shrugged. “The guy needs to make a living and he escaped the blockade with nothing but those pictures and the clothes on his back. I thought Iʼd thank him for his sacrifice by paying him a sum.” 

Ignis cursed under his breath, frowning at some spot in the shadows. Foiled, for all his good intentions. 

“So he got all friendly and told me about what they were, how you asked to meet him ahead of us so you could look at the pictures yourself, and filter ‘em for Noct.” 

“Would you blame me?” Ignis tried to dare him to do it but was otherwise too ashamed to rise up to his gall. “Would you inflict that on our Noct? I know he is king but—” 

“He needs to focus on collecting the royal arms and striking the covenants.” Gladio nodded. “I get that. And…youʼve actually saved us by taking on this burden alone.” Now it was his turn to sound embarrassed for it. “And Iʼm sorry and thankful for it.” 

What else could make Ignis smile? Than to learn that he had, once more, been of service? Been indispensable to his friends? 

Gladio cupped him by his cheek again, tracing the arch of it, “But I need you to focus, too, okay? We canʼt save those people if our local strategist canʼt get himself together. Weʼre all dependent on you.” 

Ignis nodded, tilting his head to his touch. “But of course. You can rest assured this will be the last time your strategist _and_ chauffeur will be missing the turn, Lord Protector.” Gladio was the Shield of the King but he looked after them all, too. He had always kept them in line. 

And this time, he shook his head. “Not what Iʼm talkinʼ about, Commander.” All of a sudden, he shrugged off his fatigues, stripping himself down to his pants (and causing Ignisʼ heart to jump a little at the sudden pecs saying hello to him) before he grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed—

“Now?!” Ignis wasnʼt going to lie, since they became exclusive to each other, he had learned about the healing powers of sex. But in general, that only happened when they did it in its proper time. And he wasnʼt in the mood tonight. “Gladio, Noct and Prompto are waiting for us—” 

“Theyʼll understand.” There was Gladio with that insouciant way of handling things again. Sometimes Ignis admired it but times such as these, he wondered if it should be encouraged less. “I gave them money.” Then he sat on the bed, pulling off his boots before he pulled the quilt back and laid down on the pillow, the one closer to the bureau in the middle. He knocked on his chest. “Get in here.” 

Ignis moved his jaw to protest. This was too awkward by all counts. “G, Gladio, I…I canʼt.” So much for being ‘in serviceʼ. 

“Just get in here.” 

Shifting uneasily, Ignis sat himself at Gladioʼs bedside. He didnʼt move. 

So Gladio had to nudge him lower by his shoulder, mumbling to him, “Cʼmere,” until he was laying on top of him. Where he could press him down with his heavy arms, sending another shudder of bliss up Ignisʼ chest. Like the warmest, softest blanket in all of Eos. In all of the cosmos. 

“When was the last time you stopped?” Gladio rumbled to him, that earthen thunder more soothing than it should legally be. Ignis resisted the urge to absorb it, commit to it fully. Noctis and Prompto were waiting. 

“Now,” Ignis answered. Whatever satisfied the both of them. He forced himself to relax in his belovedʼs arms, sink into his heat. “Last night.” 

“You mean while you were setting your alarm?” Gladio chuckled. “Making sure you woke up earlier and didnʼt oversleep to get at those pictures?” Ignis sighed, frowning deeper at the slats of light stripped across the other bed. But they were there again in his head—the old and the weak, the young watching a parade of imperial soldiers. Once the seat of power, the Crown City had become completely cut off from its land, and all this was happening behind Lucisʼ back.

All that time they spent hunting, laughing, staying up late and waking up later in havens…and all these people… “You know, for a guy who calls himself the royal advisor, you sure suck at taking your own advice,” Gladio went on. 

“Well, someone has to do it,” Ignis quipped, trying to keep light of things. “Would they truly be called advice if no one ignored them? Seeing as Iʼm always the man with the initiative,” the earth under his cheek bounced, and Gladioʼs quiet laughter was its flowing magma, “I thought I might take it.” 

“You’re always smart, Ignis,” Gladio sighed. Now he was patting him, one hand following the slow and steady tempo of a beat only they knew. 

“Donʼt do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Iʼll fall asleep.” But Gladio was always smart, too. 

“Good for us,” he whispered. He was starting to keep his voice low, the shadows untouched. 

Ignis started to get up but Gladio only tightened his arm around him and fastened his face to his chest with a swift hand. “Gladio, please!” 

“Please what?” 

“Let me go.” Ignis tried to fight but he knew from the get-go that the contest had been decided the moment he accepted Gladioʼs invitation to lay on him. In his perfume, his warmth. “Noctis and Prompto are waiting.” 

“What else?” 

_What else?_ he asked the strips of white shining on the bed next to them, empty and waiting. A forlorn sight. “The people are waiting,” Ignis spilled despite himself. “Gladio, we have to keep moving.” 

“Thatʼs why you missed that turn,” Gladio chided him gently. “Thatʼs why you couldnʼt lead us in the hunt earlier. Do you know why I asked Noct to stay back with the crossbow?” 

“Why?” Ignis couldnʼt believe he dreaded the answer, especially since he knew it. 

“I knew you wouldnʼt leave him,” Gladio echoed his thoughts. “I knew you would stay back with him.” 

“Was I in the way?” Ignis whispered. 

“Mightʼve been if Noct hadnʼt held you back,” Gladio said. He pulled him tighter, and Ignis, the fool that he was, pressed himself closer to him. “You gotta stop. Youʼre running yourself ragged. You gotta breathe for me, Ignis. For us.” 

Ignis shook his head. “We donʼt have time.” 

“Iʼm making it for you.” 

“Will they understand?” 

He felt Gladio nod. Now he was running his fingers softly along the back of his hair. “Theyʼll know itʼs not your fault. Youʼre not a god, Ignis. And even gods ainʼt perfect.” Well, that was true. If they were…they wouldnʼt be running around like mice, chasing them before they were felled. Pushing themselves to the limits of their mortal capacities. “But you gotta focus if you want us to get anywhere. I need you to focus, Ignis.” 

“On what?” Ignis breathed. 

“…what do _you_ wanna focus on?” What? Easy. 

Noctis. The man who was his king, his best friend, his brother and son. If not for him, he would not be out here, suffering through the scares and losses with the rest of them. 

His friends. Gladio, Prompto, Iris, Talcott, the rest of the Crownsguard…or whoever was left of them. What sort of man would he be if he allowed himself to stumble, to lose his way when they depended on him? 

And his boyfriend, who also relied on him. Whose love for him was hinged only for who he was—and not _what_ he was, what he did, and what he could do. His partner at work who steadied him and guided him. And if they made it back alive, perhaps his partner in life. Who always watched over him and held him by the hand. 

Held him in his arms, warm and soft and firm and gentle, all at once. Imperfect but unembarrassed by what he lacked. Strong and brave, steady as a rock, as a lighthouse in the storm. 

As the beating of his heart—Ignisʼ favorite lullaby. The one that told him to stop, to breathe. That allowed him to falter in his stride, so he could tie his shoelaces and reassess his compass—who was also him. 

To close his eyes, and steep himself in his scent, his feeling, his very presence. Grounding him, soothing him. Returning him to a blank slate, all mistakes erased, all sins and suffering forgiven and forgotten. 

_If not for him,_ Ignis thought, sinking deeper into darkness, _where would we be?_

_Where would I be?_

—

And then, from the murmurations of his thoughts, swimming into each other, melding, splitting, came three knocks, as shy as they were foreign.

Gladio peeled one eyelid open to catch the click of the lock and then the slice of light spilling into the black room. Noctis and Prompto were dwarfed silhouettes against it, hunched low as they shuffled in. 

Noctis pointed to the purring man on his chest, then laid his face on his praying hands. 

Gladio nodded, then gestured for them to come in. 

Noctisʼ shoulders sank in relief while Prompto wiped the sweat from his brow before he turned around and locked the door. Slowly, they approached. 

Prompto appeared to jump before he bent low and slowly pulled Ignisʼ glasses from his sleeping face while Noctis noted his leather shoes and pointed to it. With a nod from Gladio, he set to work easing it carefully from Ignisʼ socked feet. The whole time they were getting him comfortable, Gladio kept a close eye on his boyfriendʼs profile, brushing the back of his hair in comforting motions. The poor guy looked like heʼd been running on empty much longer than either of them realized, and those photos had finally overheated him. 

Now, he was drooling on Gladioʼs chest, too worn out to even bother stirring at his friendsʼ ministrations. His poor love. 

He kissed him on the top of his head. Ignis finally moved but only to hike himself higher and bury his nose on the crook of his neck. 

As Noctis sat on the bed across them and switched on the lamp, Prompto tapped him on his arm and pointed to the takeaway bag he was setting down on the top of the drawers. Gladio thanked him with a nod and a thumb up, shifting a little. Then slowly, as gently as he could, he started to tip his tired boyfriend to the empty space beside him—

Foiled. Ignis produced the most disgruntled whine an adult man could be capable of and latched onto him like a cat to his box. 

_Okay, okay,_ Gladio said as he shushed the weary advisor, bringing them both back to their original state. Definitely more tired than they gave him credit for. 

With a tiny smirk, he shook his head at the sagging Prompto. He was hungry but he would rather wait for Ignis to let go before he could attend to himself. The man had been suffering for their sakes, it was about time he returned the favor. 

Or as it turned out, _they_ returned the favor. With a silent snap, Prompto dug into the bag and produced the paper pouch of fries. He turned briefly to Noctis behind him. 

Then the king was on Gladioʼs side, helping him up until he was boosted by pillows on his shoulders, both of them moving as carefully as they could to make sure Ignis stayed on him like a leech. The man stirred again to renew his grasp. 

But once he was satisfied in his curled state, Prompto finally offered him some fries, mouth going, _Ahhh…!_

_Ahh,_ Gladio replied, and in went the deep-fried goodness, the salt and the crispness doing well to satisfy him. He chewed with gusto and raised a thumb up. 

While Noctis punctured his cup of iced tea with the straw, Prompto fed him again. It was more trouble than Gladio anticipated, definitely one for the history books. 

But as long as he could—as _they_ could take care of Ignis for a change, it was no trouble, at all.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by _[it's okay](https://youtu.be/9MnVNeQiCQE)_ by clara benin which was written i think during the first months of the pandemic. thanks for reading and don't forget to take breaks and stay hydrated when it's all becoming too much ❤️❤️❤️


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